Pick myself up, and keep going

Primarily because of the horrendous effects of the COVID-19 virus, the past several months have been extremely difficult for many, if not most people. It’s been tough for me too.  My son was hospitalized for two months while he was treated for the virus and a stroke and I couldn’t visit him in the hospital. It was a nightmare but he’s in rehab now and doing well, thanks to a lot of prayers and some wonderful health care workers. I’ve totally self-isolated because I’m old as dirt and in the “at risk” group. I absolutely don’t want to contract the virus, and I absolutely don’t want to infect anyone. Even so, now that my son is doing well, I miss doing what I’ve done for decades, basically everything that I can do to help those who are mentally ill receive treatment, services and housing. My frustration level is sky-high.  Nevertheless, over the years I’ve found that Rudyard Kipling’s “If–” challenges me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going, in some way, with my life’s work. I hope it does as much for you as it does to me, especially during the next 100 days.  

If–

By Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you   

    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

    But make allowance for their doubting too;   

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

    And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it.